


Morning After

by orphan_account



Category: Being Human
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-29
Updated: 2009-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie likes to watch</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the initial pilot which aired in Feb '08

She thinks mostly, what it is is a release. Mitchell's got his crap vampire angst and George is dealing with his own personal hell and really, he's the worst straight man she's ever known of, and he's so bloody head over heels, but a complete twat, yeah? So he doesn't know he's in love.

'Course, he's adorable, so they all forgive him.

But now, in the early hours after the moon has faded from the sky and George isn't quite George again, covered in blood from the scratches he gives himself on the glass and bent, old metal in his hiding place.

Mitchell's eyes go scarlet and the way he tilts his head gets more focused: he tilts it in, long fingers curled proprietary around George, who leans against him, fingers skimming under the waistband of Mitchell's jeans.

They don't fumble to Mitchell's bed (always Mitchell's), they fall into it, George biting hard on the bits of skin he can find, digging fingertips into skin that doesn't bruise.

Mitchell is panting, all long lines splayed like a buffet on his bed, skin glowing in the dark of the room. George peels Mitchell's clothes off, and Mitchell rises onto one elbow gracefully to watch as George shrugs out of the coat and dances out of the sweats. He reaches out and fists his hand in the hair at the nape of George's neck and bites at George's lips, but George growls and gives as good as he gets, straddling Mitchell and grinding down on him, panting, desperate for it.

Mitchell receives the attention like a king receiving tribute, and that lasts until George gets fed up (which varies, Annie has found, from month to month, depending on how bad the change was and how bloody he is after he gets out).

Finally, George slides down Mitchell's body and begins sucking. It's sloppy, and he's got no talent for it but he sucks cock like he'll die if he doesn't, fucking his own throat and Mitchell arches, throwing his arm over his face and groaning.

His groans get louder the more attention George gives his cock, and then (and this is one of her favourite bits), when George slips a blunt, spit-slicked finger up Mitchell's ass Mitchell just snaps.

Grabs George and flips him, biting at his neck, his shoulderblades, shuddering with the bloodlust and the regular kind of lust, folding George in half and brutally fucking him.

There's never any preparation—she's read on the internet that lube is required, KY or just vaseline, because even girls need some help, and they're self-lubricating, but no.

Not for these two.

And it's messy, and there is blood, but George heals fast, and besides that he makes these bloody keening noises, rocking his hips and fisting the sheets and panting, "Come on, come on, fuck me, fuck, yes, yes, fuck, harder, come on, fuck, oh fuck!"

The more "fuck"s he throws in, the closer he is to coming.

And he always comes first. Mitchell wraps his long fingers around George's red, hard, weeping cock and languidly strokes, alternating between teasing it and abusing it but that seems to work for George nicely.

"Come for me," Mitchell will groan, and George does, in long shuddering spurts that paint his chest, his belly, and sometimes his chin and the pillows behind him.

Mitchell will ram in, arse flexing prettily and Annie will shift, remembering how it felt to get wet as he drives home a few more times before stilling, shuddering, leaning his forehead against George's.

Pulls out, reaches to the nightstand and wipes them down with the towel she's left there.

It's as much participation as she's gonna have- but right then, when Mitchell's wiping the come off of them, it's almost like a threesome.

George always falls asleep, snoring a bit, and Mitchell always carries him to his bed.

They never talk about it.

Sometimes Mitchell looks at her, though, and she knows he knows she watches.

Doesn't see what's wrong with it: it's her bloody house, and they're like the monsters under the bed, only they're in it and shagging.


End file.
